Potions Master Pygmalion
by Alanna22039
Summary: Severus Snape's mastery project needed to be a project that would be remembered by potions masters and scholars for all time, something that would encompass all branches of magic, something which would show men how foolish their slavish devotion to women truly brought them. He, Severus Snape, would make a second Pandora. AU, WIP. Rated for some language & more graphic situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything one might recognize from the books. I make no money from the posting of this story.**

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Prologue

A young man sat in the dim, bitterly aromatic stillroom of his master's apothecary. A muted, pastel rainbow of smoke and mist rose from the ten cauldrons around the room, its light and the that of the flames under the cauldrons barely enough for apprentice Severus Snape to avoid dicing his long fingers instead of the rat spleen on the cutting board.

He had six months left to complete his mastery project – or at least enough of it for the Potions Masters' Guild Examination Panel and Master Jigger to understand what he was attempting to create. He just had to do something different, something new. What was his talent worth if he could only push further on work started by others?

He had considered attempting a cure for lycanthropy, but Master Dagworth-Granger had already gone halfway to a cure with his Wolfsbane potion. No, Severus needed a challenge – something not already mostly completed. Not that he didn't intend to cure lycanthropy, if only to shove his success in Dagworth's ruddy, blobby, oh-so-smug face. Some of his current project might even be the answer Dagworth couldn't seem to find in the musty old scrolls his nose was so stuck in. But not now. Not for this test.

He had also wondered about a cure for vampirism. If he succeeded in this project, he might even be as far toward a vampire's cure as Dagworth was to a lycanthrope's – some kind of synthetic blood to control a vampire's urges around humans. And his would be more original, using more magic and scholarship than just potioneering. His sponsor had quite strongly hinted he would be grateful to have such a valuable bargaining tool, most likely to win the vampires' support for his cause. Severus would hold back this measure, just for a little while. What his sponsor didn't know wouldn't hurt him after all, and Severus would still be the honored servant who brought the vampires to Tom's side.

His mastery project, though, needed to be something no one could think of without his name popping up synonymously. A project that would be remembered by potions masters and scholars would remember for all time, something that would encompass _all_ branches of magic, not just alchemy and potions.

This project could, perhaps, even make up for some of the things that had gone so wrong in his life to date.

His project? He, Severus Snape, usually unseen and so far below the popular, lordly, influential families like the Malfoys, Blacks and Potters, would create something the world had never seen, something which would show men how foolish their slavish devotion to women truly brought them.

He, Severus Snape, would make a second Pandora.

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	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited and followed so far! This week's chapter awaits...

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Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter 2

Two days later, Severus sat in a stiff, rickety, old, falling-apart wooden chair. Honestly? This was how the Guild Examination Panel treated would-be Masters? If this was supposed to be a scare tactic – some kind of "let's see what the apprentices are really worth," Severus was unimpressed. He knew his project was better than just about every other proposal this year.

(Well….that one toady who claimed to be descended from Nicolas Flamel was proposing a cure-all for every kind of cancer, plus this year's flu vaccination! That one might earn more money. Severus' project, though, would win even Tom Riddle's respect, given its various applications.)

So, here Severus sat, his good wool suit Tom had insisted every apprentice needed getting wrinkled (and probably now had splinters), and pins and needles beginning to shoot up his legs. Make that pins and termites…

His leg began bouncing, almost imperceptibly. Master Jigger, who had better eyesight than a falcon, Severus would swear, placed a gentle hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be fine, my boy. Such talent as yours could hardly fail to gain a place among the twelve remaining British Potions Masters. Of course, I'd have even more confidence in you if you could tell me what your project is."

The wheedling tone in his master's voice couldn't be ignored by any mere mortal. Severus, though, after four years was immune, and paid no heed to Master Jigger's words.

Nine men, dressed rather like seventeenth century muggle magistrates with their black dresses –cough – robes and powdered wigs, filed in to the row of seats at the front of the hall. They coughed and grumbled and harrumphed, resettling every second, for about five minutes before the whale in the center (the one who most people knew as Master Hector Dagworth-Granger) pulled a thick file to himself, propped a pair of – were those platinum pince-nez? – on his nose, and began to read.

The file, Severus knew, contained his whole history in the potion's making and alchemical businesses, from his first day at Hogwarts, to his training under Master Arsenius Jigger, and his project proposal and recommendations for mastery.

Master Dagworth-Granger eventually cleared his throat (rather like an elephant farting loudly, Severus thought uncharitably) before finally raising his face from the thick parchment in front of him.

_I never thought it possible,_ Severus mused. _And none of the parchment stuck to him. Maybe it caught my bad thoughts? It is __my__ file after all._

"Apprentice Snape, Master Arsenius says you have a talent unlike this guild has seen in almost a century." Master Hector's disdainful words blustered out quickly, leaving their owner breathing harshly."He is not a man prone to hyperbole, but still, I wonder."

Of course he wondered. No one could possibly be as great as the overgrown hot air balloon which created the all-powerful Wolfsbane potion.

Master Jigger coughed mildly, awkwardly covering his apprentice's silence. "That is true, Master Hector. I have seen Apprentice Snape show true genius in the improvement of existing potions, ingredient preparation, and brewing techniques. He is the rare student who shows creativity and passion without neglecting technique." Master Jigger beamed up at the Examination Panel, and Severus hoped his blush wasn't readily noticeable. "I shall be quite sorry to have him leave my shop, you know. I shall never be able to keep up with all the orders without his ambidextrous brewing!"

"Or his precision in preparing ingredients, eh, Jigger? Never seen a student pass _that_ test with such a high score!"

"Of course, as his master you could just claim his work as yours! Nothing wrong with that – good for the apprentice's character!" Master Someone – alright, that wasn't his name, but Severus couldn't remember it – shouted.

"While my apprentice's perfectionism has molded his preparation technique, I remind you all it was my technique he mastered. In fact, I'm quite proud to say he improved upon it a great deal. But at the heart, the technique was originally mine." Master Jigger's triumphant grin soured some of those on the panel, just a touch.

"Well," Master Dagworth-Granger blustered. "That is all very well and good, then. Your letters of recommendation, including quite an inspiring letter from one Mr. Tom Riddle, and another from a young Mr. Lucius Malfoy, all fine. I find it interesting, however, that none of those who wrote your letters _or_ your master claim to have any knowledge of your mastery project. Shall you break tradition and not perform a project, Apprentice Snape?"

Of course, the clear underlying message, "We masters, one and all, had to have a project ready so you should as well," was communicated with a particularly gruesome glare.

"And it's a damn nuisance, if I may say so," Master Dagworth blustered on.

There was an awkward pause before Severus realized the panel was waiting for his response. Master Jigger leaned down to give some last minute advice. "I know you don't respect some of these men, Severus, and perhaps rightly so, but please, if you can manage nothing else, _please_ be polite. I know there are manners lurking in a dark corner of your brain _somewhere_."

Severus sighed. He couldn't give a scathing retort – he'd make Master Jigger look a poor teacher, and Master Jigger had been nothing but good to him. Fine then. He could manage polite – for Master Jigger.

"Yes…" He stopped to clear his throat. Damn. Now he looked incompetent like a Hogwarts graduate just signing his apprenticeship contract. "Master Dagworth-Granger, honored members of the Panel, I merely wished to present those who support my growing education with my successes, not regale them with the inevitable failures that must occur along the path to a successful mastery project." Why, oh _why_ couldn't these men speak like average (though well-educated) Englishmen without all this formal bull? This was a scene set for a Malfoy to rule over, not a poor Mancunian mill worker's son like him.

"Admirable ambition, boy," it sounded like Master Dagworth choked on every word, "but do spoil the surprise, just a little bit, hm? I'm sure it would heighten the anticipation of every man in this room (and surely one or two outside it) to see your results."

"Thank you, Master Dagworth-Granger, but I must decline. I shall not tell you of my project until I have results to show." Severus' voice oozed polite aloofness.

"Devil take you, boy! You must declare your project to the Panel before you take your examinations!"

"Master Dagworth-Granger, in the project guidelines you sent to Master Jigger and myself, you said the apprentice may _choose either_ to declare his project by way of a brief synopsis of his idea and progress_ or_ the apprentice may accept a challenge from any member of the Guild Examination Panel to brew any already-existing potion. I will gladly accept your challenge, because I cannot reveal my project to any living person but myself until I have results."

"Don't be a fool, Snape! Black sheep are not welcomed in this guild! We are a body of standards, ethics, research and –"

"How am I a black sheep, Master Dagworth-Granger, if I abide by the rules you yourself set?"

"Then you will brew my Wolfsbane recipe, which I have not given in full to anybody, as I am the only man who makes it! You shall make it here and now."

"Shall I at least be given the proper materials and ingredients?" Severus' eyes narrowed. He smelt a rat in this somewhere… "You don't have to tell me the order in which to use them or the amounts, just ensure that they are the correct ingredients."

Master Dagworth snapped his fingers. Silver and pewter cauldrons, marble mortars and pestles, and vial upon vial upon vial of ingredients – perhaps enough to fill an entire apothecary – appeared upon a table (that also conveniently appeared) in front of the Panel's panel within easy view of the guild Masters and Master Jigger. He waddled down from his perch to stand at the opposite end of the table from Severus.

"Well then, boy. You asked for your challenge and here it is. Get to it," Master Dagworth barked.

Severus bowed to the Panel and Master Jigger and got to work.

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	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to all my readers!

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Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter 3

Nine hours after he began brewing, adding ingredients to the starting base Master Dagworth-Granger had provided, Severus looked up from his finished potion. It glowed softly in the vial, the same hue and texture as mercury at room temperature. And yet, there was more white light in it, almost like liquid moonshine… Was that the secret? Liquid moonshine to keep the wolf part of the werewolf's mind quiescent?

Reluctantly, he handed over the vial to Master Dagworth-Granger, bowing slightly.

The older man's face morphed into a grotesquely blobby grimace. "Show me your calculations and work, boy."

Severus handed the long parchments over silently. Master Hector was grimacing, and the brew hadn't exploded... Had he perhaps done better than Master Hector?

The notes passed from hand to hand, all the masters scanning the scratchy handwriting for several minutes.

"No scratch outs," one commented. He scratched a raised mole on one furry ear. Odd, Severus thought, that he would have fur in his ears but be bald as a Tibetan monk. The man raised peridot green eyes to the younger man's. "Did you use an erasable quill to do these figures?"

"No, Master Bridgeport. If you look on the parchment there are several series in which I had started with one amount of an ingredient, but the arithmancy didn't balance, so I started sequences until I could see the numbers balancing to seven and one."

There was a long pause. "It would seem then that you are a born alchemist, gifted in both arithmancy and potioneering. Your future work _could_ be quite an asset to the guild."

"Thank you, Master."

"Don't thank me yet, Apprentice. We'll see what results rise from your mastery project first."

"In the meantime, Lineus, Hector, masters" Arsenius broke the conversation softly. "Shall we all examine Apprentice Snape's work? According to the rules of a challenge, it must be compared to the original recipe, if the original brew is still in existence."

"I have it here," Master Dagworth-Granger grumbled. He ferreted in his breast pocket a moment before pulling out stoppered vial with a thick grey gel-like liquid inside. "As I am biased in this challenge, perhaps you, my fellow guildsmen, will judge the winner of the contest."

The Panel members asked several questions of Master Dagworth _sotto voce_. Apparently, an apprentice who challenged could not hear the criteria of his success or failure, but Severus assumed the masters asked about the consistency of the original, if the brightness of the potion's hue effected usefulness or dosage.

The eight wigged and robed men turned into a circle, shutting out Severus, Arsenius and Master Dagworth. They whispered furiously among themselves, arguing over nuances; Severus couldn't tell anything more, despite the echo of the whispers around the oak-panelled room.

The masters fell silent for several minutes. Some glared at Severus, some looked either at him or Master Dagworth with pity – useless – and some stared in… Severus wasn't sure if he was seeing awe or terror in those faces. Perhaps both. Good. If they feared him they would leave him alone to his experiments.

Arsenius lightly coughed. "I believe my apprentice would like to hear the results of his brewing. Would you, perhaps, read them out to Apprentice Snape, Master Lineus?"

"Based upon the original report submitted by the creator of this contested Wolfsbane Elixir, and elaboration on some small details about the quality of the brew, given by the same creator, the Examination Panel of the Potions Masters' Guild finds that in the challenge between Guild Master Hector Dagworth-Granger and Apprentice Severus Snape…"

There was that look of awed fear again, aimed at one Apprentice Snape.

"Apprentice Snape has succeeded in brewing the Wolfsbane Elixir, …and has increased its effectiveness beyond the original observed results."

Master Hector Dagworth-Granger paled. He glared at Severus, rendered speechless by fury.

Severus walked over to him, bowed, and extended his hand to shake the Guild Master's. The older man turned his back to Severus and stormed out of the room.

Master Lineus Bridgeport spoke up in the Guild Master's stead. "Congratulations, Apprentice Snape. You have proven your worthiness to take the mastery exams."

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"Severus, you worry me sometimes," Master Jigger said idly as he and his apprentice walked back down Diagon Alley to Jigger's Apothecary. Both were wrapped well inside two outer layers of wool, and shouting through their scarves to be heard over the screaming January wind.

"In what way, specifically, do I worry you? Have I done something wrong, or are you just worried that I will eclipse your awesome career?"

"Don't tease, my boy. I think of you as a son, if you hadn't realized. I worry sometimes that you will turn the Potions Guild on its ear and create a world in which every scholar is appreciated for his own work and is ethical enough to give his apprentice due credit for his apprentice's ideas."

Severus stopped in his tracks. "Is that so bad, Arsenius? Appreciating an apprentice for his own work and worth, I mean."

"No, appreciating an apprentice as a student with ideas and potential is not a bad thing. Is that your real issue with Master Hector?" Arsenius carefully avoided his student's gaze.

"My issue with Dagworth is many things, Arsenius. I don't like that he treats his apprentices as worthless, true."

"You realize you could have projected your career a lot further if you'd chosen Hector as your master."

"I couldn't apprentice under a master who would claim all my work as his. I can't respect a master who is hide-bound and relies on the effects recorded to predict all his work. I have no trust in a master who cannot look beyond his own discipline for solutions to problems."

"You made an enemy of him, Severus." Arsenius rubbed his hand over his face sighing. "You and I both know that he has the least talent or science among the members of the guild, and so do all the other masters, believe me. We've all agreed in the past that, lazy as he is, even Horace Slughorn has more talent for potions in his little finger than Hector has. _However_, Master Dagworth-Granger is the most politically connected of us all.

"And then you challenge him, on his _own _creation, _in front of_ nine other potions masters who should look up to him as the head of the guild. On top of that, not only did you successfully brew an unreleased recipe on your first try, you did so using fewer materials and ingredients than Master Dagworth-Granger outlined in his original project notes, _and _increased the efficacy of the brew by at least ten percent, just judging on how much brighter yours glowed. According to Hector's original notes the stronger it glows, the more it pushes the wolf side of the were's mind down."

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Arsenius cut him off.

"You certainly showed how powerful and talented a potioneer you are – not just a potioneer, an _alchemist_, which the guild hasn't seen from an _apprentice_ in generations. You terrified Hector Dagworth-Granger by proving just how weak he is in front of those who should respect him. You scared the other masters – they're wondering just what else you've been holding back from them. They wonder if they will be able to control such a junior member of the guild. If any of them back one of your projects, it will purely be to see how quickly you fail. When they realized just how talented and what specific gifts you have, it was all I could do in there to keep a riot from breaking out, or worse a lynch mob." Arsenius glared sternly at his apprentice.

"You frightened me, Severus. You could have blown yourself to Tartarus and back, _and you know it_, and there was nothing I could have done to stop it. Hector Dagworth-Granger may not give though to his apprentices on any level, but I take pride that _my_ apprentices are well cared for, body, mind and soul!

"But you? Are you my apprentice? I don't even know if I've taught you anything at this point. You hold so much of your talent back from me, I don't know how to help you. You think so deeply, and never reveal your thoughts, that I know you understand what I tell you, but I can never predict what genius thought will pop out next - and then before I can blink, you're off testing said thought without letting me know just _what_ you're testing, or _how_ you might implode yourself this time. Your mastery project could be so far above my head, I wouldn't be able to stop you from incinerating yourself – especially since I haven't the slightest clue what disasters I should be trying to save my closest apprentice _from._

"My son, you have pushed everyone away. In doing so, you _may_ have shot your career to hell before it has even started." Arsenius continued walking toward his shop.

Severus stood still, shell-shocked, in the accumulating snow, breathing heavily through his scarf. Damn. He had been so caught up in his loathing for Hector Dagworth-Granger that he hadn't thought his actions through.

He had better get studying into other disciplines and traditions of magic if he was going to make good his unspoken promise to Tom and to the Examination Panel that his project was so worth seeing that it didn't need to be announced before hand.

Perhaps he should even tell Arsenius what his project was, write out a project outline – idea, hypothesis, expected outcomes, materials used… He hadn't realized just how much Master Arsenius worried over him. He was rather touched. He hadn't had someone worry about him since_... _since _her_._ She_, so perfect and wonderful, had stopped worrying about him - stopped _caring_ about him after... After...

This project would make up for what she'd done to him - what all women did to their men. True affection only came from men, like Arsenius.

Speaking of Arsenius, if he was going to write up a scientific proposal to show Arsenius in the morning, what would he put down? Main proposal, of course. Build a human body - a woman's body, and give it life. He had the marrow for the bones figured out, he thought. Well, the theory and the alchemy worked out on paper. Who knew what would happen when it came to brewing? Still, he could show Arsenius his materials and chosen brewing methods, hypothesis for brewing the marrow, et cetera.

After the marrow, though, what next? Should he grow a skeleton and work out? What _would_ come next? The nerve system? Muscles? How would he build such materials?

He remembered something he had run across in a Transfiguration article a couple of months before he had graduated… Had McGonagall had it posted in her classroom? Maybe…

Anyway, the article had explained something about Egyptian burial practices and creation of _shapti_ – some kind of charmed mix of wax and clay, he thought. What about the embalming process the article had briefly mentioned? That was just the opposite of what he wanted to do, right? Take the body apart instead of putting it together.

He had some Egyptian texts to find and read.

Damn.

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	4. Chapter 4

Hello All! Welcome to this week's chapter! I hope you enjoy!

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Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter Four

A beautiful young woman walked through a sunlit meadow in his dreams, laughing into the wind blowing off the turquoise sea. Her white sundress clung to every curve of her hourglass frame. Her chestnut hair, shot through with golden sun streaks, bounced gently against her shoulders as she ran. It tried to cling to her shoulders in vain. Her hair looked so soft as Severus reached out to touch it, though she was too far away for him to reach it.

She turned, still laughing, looking for him over her shoulder. Her skin was the glowing blushed white complexion so many women tried for but couldn't achieve. He could see the rose blush on her cheek – a true English beauty, then – the faded freckles across the bridge of her nose…

Severus sat up, his arm still outstretched to touch a woman who wasn't there. She probably didn't even exist. Even if she did exist, she would probably have nothing to do with him. She might laugh at him, but that hardly counted.

Severus knew he wasn't handsome – his nose was too large for good looks, and his teeth were crooked (like an Englishman who hadn't been through the torture of orthodonture). His hair was almost always greasy from hanging over steaming cauldrons all day, and his hair was so baby fine that hair ties weren't a practical solution. As an apprentice, he had finally just cast a charm on his hair and his cauldrons to keep the hair from falling into a brew and contaminating it, then given the task up as a bad job.

He also knew he wasn't attractive in any way a woman would look for. He was acerbic and sarcastic. He didn't tolerate short comings in anyone, particularly those closest to him. People around him could either make themselves useful or leave, and Severus didn't mind telling them so.

Regardless, his dream could be nothing else – nothing but a fanciful vision created by too much crouching and digging through musty centuries-old parchments. It was a distraction, like all women. Severus put it out of his mind and got back to work.

He reached a hand up to rub his tired eyes – it was four in the morning already? – and peeled the parchment stuck there from his cheek.

Severus scowled at the introduction before him – this was the sixth? Seventh? time, now – frowning with each sentence. He tried to imagine what Tom or Arsenius would say with each sentence as they read the paper. He imagined it would be something along these lines:

_From the beginning of the world, man has always sought his roots – _

Arsenius: Meaning you're too lazy to look up a reference?

… – _from the Egyptian birth of Ra from chaos, to the Judeo-Christian Adam and Eve, and on to Charles Darwin's __On the Origin of Species__, every culture and age has had its own conception of the beginning._

Tom: So what? Every culture wants to know where they came from. Tell me why it's important.

_The Greeks imagined gods who could create actual beings, as displayed in two stories. In the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, most famously told by Ovid, a statue created by man is given life by the goddess Aphrodite. Hesiod recorded in his __Theogeny__ the tale of Pandora, the woman wrought from precious metals and given life and attributes by all the gods together. It is in this second tale that the author's interest chiefly lies._

Arsenius: You have good knowledge of mythology. In what way, precisely, does looking back to the creation of Pandora push the Potions Guild into a new future?

_The author feels that if such a dummy as Pandora could be reproduced by magical means, chiefly through the application of alchemy and potioneering, it could be applied to many uses. In particular, the dummy could be used in the study of exotic diseases and their cures._

Tom: Go on…

_Potential cures could be more accurately and thoroughly tested at less cost to potions makers and medical institutions. Certainly, such tests could be performed at less risk to human volunteers._

Tom and Arsenius together: Now you have our attention. How do you propose to create this oh-so-useful "dummy"?

Of course, Severus was still working out the answer to _that_ question.

He pulled forward his notes on Egyptian mummification. One writer in particular was rather useful. Other recent wizarding sources cited this muggle, Dr. Cockburn. The wizarding section of the British Museum's Egyptology Collection had invited him to speak as a mummification expert at their _Death and Disease in Ancient Egypt_ symposium in early 1973.

Severus wished McGonagall had posted news about _that_ on her classroom bulletin… Then again, she very well might have done so. His second year self hadn't been all that interested in ancient Egypt and mummies. Those subjects had had no practical application to his studies then.

His left forearm began to burn. Severus toppled out of his chair, cursing. Tom was calling him. Did it always have to be so bloody painful? Why couldn't an owl perform the service just as well? Some owls were easily as vicious as the pain Tom had just delivered. On that note, why not a Patronus? The Patronus might even give Severus an idea of Tom's mood.

Perhaps that was precisely why Tom didn't use a Patronus. It wouldn't do to give his followers a forewarning if Tom was well and truly pissed. And Tom, sadist that he was, could enjoy the sight of his "friends" in pain, if he _was_ in a good mood.

Severus picked himself up off the floor, sighing. He'd better go see what Tom wanted this early in the morning.

He stuffed his paper introduction and notes into his pocket before he swept out of Arsenius' back laboratory door. He smirked proudly inside at the grace of the motion. It had taken him until last November to figure the gesture out entirely, seeming to stalk like a panther instead of looking like he was tripping over his gangly limbs…

Mind back on track. Tom needed him for something. And while he was about it, now was the perfect time to show Tom his project notes. Perhaps Tom had some sources that Severus would be unable to access on his own…

Severus Apparated to Tom's manor house in northern England. He landed softly and knelt immediately on the plush, emerald Abyssinian runner. He could see the whorls and knots in the dark walnut flooring to either side of the carpet, and hear wood snapping and popping in the great hearth before the plush armchairs he knew sat about five feet in front of his current kneeling place.

"Ah, Severus. You came quite promptly." The light tenor voice above him was almost musical in the nuance of its amusement and derision.

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. You may rise, and we shall drop the formalities for this evening – or this morning, as the case may be."

"Yes, Tom."

Severus looked up to see a tall man in a plush charcoal dressing gown, worn open over a white button-down shirt and black pants. A glass of brandy was held elegantly in one long-fingered hand. The other man's face seemed perfectly formed, like any of DaVinci's or Raphael's portraits. The wavy brown hair and dark amused eyes seemed designed purely to set any onlooker at ease. Severus knew better than to trust the illusion completely.

"I wished to speak of your project and your interview. Pour yourself a drink and come join me by the fire."

Severus nodded and did as he was bid. The crystal decanters were especially fine, with a monogrammed "R" engraved on each bottle, with a cutter ship sailing the waters behind the letter. Tom had once said that the depiction told of his father's family connections to the East India Company long ago.

"Was there anything in particular you wished to hear?" Severus asked as he poured himself a glass of elf-made merlot.

"How did your interview go?"

"I'm approved to take the mastery examinations," Severus replied cautiously. This was not what Tom was interested in hearing, and Severus knew it well.

"That is good. Did you reveal your project to them, or shall we all remain in suspense indefinitely?"

Ah, there was the trace of censure Severus had expected.

"I did not reveal my project to the Examination Panel, Tom. I opted instead to accept a challenge from one of the masters on the Panel."

"So I had heard. I assume you succeeded in the challenge, or I would not be currently enjoying your company."

"Yes, I did succeed." He paused. Tom would want details of the challenge and the results. "Master Dagworth-Granger challenged me to recreate his Wolfsbane Potion using a starting base, as it is too late in the month to begin from scratch. He also supplied what ingredients and materials were necessary, according to his original research."

"So you successfully brewed an unreleased recipe composed by a master… That is interesting. Do you remember the recipe?"

"Not entirely. And I couldn't know the entire recipe, anyway, beginning from a base," Severus lied. He could guess perfectly well how Dagworth-Granger had created the base. He had probably wasted as many ingredients in the base (for a less effective cure) as he had elsewhere in the potion, as Severus had noted while brewing. He also remembered perfectly the part of the potion he had brewed, but he was wary of telling Tom just yet. Since he had been performing on the spot, and improvising in places, he could hardly be held accountable for not remembering all the details.

"A pity. I would be very interested to take apart that brew and see if you and I together could improve it." Tom watched for Severus' reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Severus knew that any working "together" with Tom would mean that he would do all the work while Tom received all the credit. Tom was a Slytherin, after all. Do as little as you possibly can for as much profit as possible. Severus understood perfectly and wasn't offended at the suggestion.

"Perhaps one day we shall, Tom."

"And you didn't reveal your project to the Panel. Why such secrecy, Severus?"

"I was afraid to shock them to terribly, Tom. Some are quite elderly, and one good heart attack might spell their end."

"I thought you wanted to turn the Guild upon its ear?" Tom chuckled.

"I would prefer all the living masters still be living when I am a master in the position to do just such a thing."

Tom laughed outright at this.

"But if you are interested, I have brought some of my paper and current research with me tonight to show you. I would be open to any suggestions you might have." Severus inclined his head toward to Tom. "I show you this under the assumption you won't show the Panel, of course. They shall have to hang on tenterhooks until the project is completed."

An almost lustful gleam shone in the perfect dark eyes of the man sitting across from Severus. "Show me."

Severus drew the papers from his coat pocket and handed them over. Tom almost ripped them from the younger man's hand in his eagerness. He turned his back to Severus and paced in front of the fire as he read.

Silence, apart from the crackling fire, drew on for many long minutes before Tom looked up from the sheaf of parchments in his hands.

"An interesting project to be sure. You have a lot of work ahead of you, Severus."

"Yes, sir."

"Has Master Jigger seen this yet?"

"I planned to show him this morning."

"This is good work. He will be pleased. But why the notes on Egyptian mummification?"

"When I started that line of research, I had thought that mummification would be the opposite of what I am attempting. The Egyptians took apart the body where I am trying to put it together. At first, the description Herodotus gave in the second volume of his _Histories_ seemed to be just what I was looking for."

Tom glanced warily at the younger man. "And now?"

"It seems to me that the Egyptians used too much natron and other salts to be of any help to me. Their packaging of the organs doesn't help much either. And, to be honest, I believe the brain is too delicate a piece of machinery to be poured up someone's nose, even just a Pandora dummy."

"Mm. I see your dilemma. But you seem to have drawn some inspiration from your Egyptian sources despite not following their footsteps."

"I have. More from their making of _shapti_ than from mummification. My sources say that _shapti_ were created from a charmed mixture of wax and clay. That got me thinking about the skin, when I get around to creating it. I believe that the skin will be the last step. But I could use some mixture of wax and clay, perhaps with some other ingredients, to make a passable human skin. I will think on it more when I have finished everything else."

"So you drew inspiration from Pygmalion after all, Severus? I thought you preferred Pandora to Galatea. It seems to me that you're creating a new Galatea instead of Pandora. Think on it."

"Yes, sir."

"Feel free to use my library for whatever research you need, Severus. I will be interested to hear any updates on this work. If you succeed, you shall certainly be favored beyond any other friends of mine." Tom handed back the parchments covered in Severus' spiky handwriting.

Severus bowed, turning over thoughts of his victory when this project was completed.

"Go home and rest. Show your introduction and notes to Master Jigger as soon as possible."

"Yes, my lord." Severus Apparated away.

He was asleep the moment his head hit his pillow. The beautiful woman's laughing in the meadow of his dream brought an unknowing smile to his weary face.

* * *

Sources:

Cockburn, A. et al. "A classic mummy: PUM II." _Mummies, Death and Ancient Culture_. Ed. Eve Cockburn, Theodore A. Reyman Aidan Cockburn. Second Edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973. 69-71. Book.

—. "Autopsy of an Eygptian Mummy." _Science_ 187.4182 (1975): 1155-60. Magazine.

Elias, Jonathan. _Egyptian Mummification: Recent Finidings Based on CT Scan Data from Egyptian Mummies_. 2005. Website. 3 October 2013.

Hamilton, Edith. _Mythology_. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 1942. Book.

Thank you all so much for reading! It means so much to me!

I'm sorry this chapter was posted so late. It was much harder to write than the others. I hope you enjoyed it nontheless. I would love to hear what you all think!


	5. Chapter 5

Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter 5

"An interesting proposal, to be sure, Severus," Arsenius said, rolling the many parchments Severus had handed him. He placed the bundle of paper on the lab table between them. He leaned on his right elbow, tapping his forefinger against his lips, thinking. "If anyone can complete such a project, it would be you. Do you think you'll finish by the time your exams roll around?"

Severus shifted, sitting straighter on his stool, yawning. "Not entirely, no." He rubbed his bleary eyes, still tired after pulling an all-nighter the evening before. "There's too much work here to be _complete_ in six months. I think I'll have to create each body system separately. But I believe I can get enough done to show the Guild what direction I'm headed, and my project notes will show how I intend to finish the rest." Severus took a long sip of his steaming Darjeeling, waiting for Arsenius to respond.

"I see," the master said slowly. "And what is your first step?"

"I need to finish my material list for the blood, marrow, and bone tissue today, finish this week's owl orders, and perhaps I could start brewing tomorrow… With you approval, of course."

"Of course," Arsenius repeated, smirking. "Well, then, my boy – you had best get to it."

* * *

Severus stirred his current brew of muscle relaxant for St. Mungo's hospital as he thought. Marrow…

He would need iron and some source of vitamin B for proper blood development… Iron was absolute. What about wine and egg – egg as a source of vitamin B and folic acid, wine for consistency? He could always run the numbers and see what would happen…

Severus bottled his current batch of muscle relaxant, then pulled a clean bit of parchment to him and began scribbling. A final wave of his wand to activate the arithmancy and …

No luck. Most of the formula balanced out properly, but something was missing…

Hm. He went to a small bookshelf in the corner of the laboratory and pulled out a book on human anatomy. Two types of marrow, yellow and red – red created red blood cells, good. Yellow…

Yellow marrow was mostly comprised of fat. Would cutting the fat sections of a steak meet this requirement?

Severus added the numbers. The formula balanced. If he did this right, with such simple materials, Severus could show Tom a method of keeping Vampires from attacking humans. Assuming Tom wanted to keep Vampires from attacking humans. Even just to save his "friends." Sometimes Severus wasn't so sure about Tom's plans.

Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, Severus formally wrote his material list to show Arsenius. Now, for the bone. If he added calcium and plaster to the potion, as a second phase, could he grow a bone from the marrow?

The numbers checked out. In theory, this should all work.

Severus scanned his numbers, working out the proportion of each ingredient needed. He quickly added the numeric information to his materials list before calling for Arsenius.

A Patronus in the shape of a horned owl came back. "I'll be there as soon as I finish with this customer."

Severus sighed and got back to brewing. He had ten more batches of the muscle relaxant finished (for a grand total of fifty batches, over one thousand doses of muscle relaxant), completing the order for St. Mungo's by the time Arsenius came down to the laboratory.

"Ah, St. Mungo's finished. Is that the last of the orders then?"

"No, I have to finish restocking the Hogwarts order for the winter term. Ingredients and medicines."

"Shall I help you with that?"

"If you'd like, sir. I wanted to show you the ingredients for the bone and marrow."

"Let me see." Severus passed the list over. "This looks almost like the recipe for a pasta sauce, not blood," Arsenius said chuckling. He held up his fingers. "Before you get upset, yes, I looked at the numbers, and it seems to work out. Do you have a brewing process in mind?"

"Yes. If you're willing to help me, I'd be happy to show you tomorrow evening."

"And I suppose we'll need rats to test upon. Break their limbs and see if the bone grows back properly."

"Yes, sir. I'm not sure how to test the marrow, though."

"I'd imagine that since the marrow is so integral to the bone, blood and musculature, if the bone grows back properly, allowing the muscle to reform around it, we'll notice if there are any blood clotting issues. Of course, assuming that the bone grows back properly, there won't be any such problems. Now, what's the first ingredient Hogwarts needs? This order will go faster with four hands working."

* * *

The next day, Arsenius assigned Severus to work upstairs with customers. "You need the practice with people and the sunlight, Severus," he'd said. Severus didn't agree.

He needed to keep his hands busy and his mind clear so he would brew well tonight, but Arsenius overruled him, pointing out that brewing was physically taxing work, and Severus would need to be in top brewing shape later.

Annoying as it was, Severus went up to help the customers.

It was a slow day, both good and bad for Severus. Good because there were fewer customers to annoy him and he had more time to research the next step of his project, assuming tonight went well. Bad because he had more time to fret over tonight going well.

At about five in the evening, Arsenius helped Severus close shop, restocking and reorganizing ingredients, checking expiration dates, cleaning after dirty feet walking across the tile all day. When Severus finished, he turned in the direction of the laboratory.

Before he could take one step in that direction, Arsenius stopped him. "Let's get some food in you first, and _then_ we'll brew."

"I'm fine, Arsenius."

"Food first. Brew after. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling quite peckish."

"The Leaky then?"

"On such an important occasion, son? No, I think tonight we'll sit down at Fortescue's."

"Really, Arsenius, I would never have thought you'd advocate chocolate ices for dinner."

Arsenius laughed, marching Severus out the door. "He serves other food as well. I'm mentally drooling just thinking of his chicken marsala."

* * *

Later that evening, Severus stood studying his completed potion. It was a sickly white-green, about the consistency of thick clay. Steam billowed from it in thick pungent clouds, smelling strongly of sulfur – that must be the Ashwinder egg.

"Severus, would you like to do the honors and break this poor creature's leg or shall I?" Arsenius asked, holding up a quivering rat.

Severus rolled his eyes, waved his wand and loud crack sounded, followed by a painful squeak. Severus quickly added up the ingredients to come to a basic dosage for a human, then quickly downsized it to a rat's size. "Two drops from a pipette should be enough, I think."

Arsenius cheerfully grabbed a pipette and filled it. "This is almost too solid to suck up in a pipette. Perhaps you should add water or more wine next time?"

Severus wrote down the observation. "The water perhaps. I don't want to add too much wine – the elderberry influence in the liquid itself might knock the other ingredients out of proportion. Perhaps I'm using the wrong wine? Something full bodied, I think….perhaps a merlot? What do you think, Arsenius?"

"It's a possibility. For now, I would like to see if this will fix our small friend's leg."

He deftly dropped two drops of the steaming liquid in the small animal's mouth, Severus scribbling observations all the while.

There seemed no noticeable change to the rat at first, but after ten seconds, a high-pitched squeal emanated from the rodent. "There seems to be some pain involved in the bone re-growth process," Severus noted aloud.

Gradually, he could see the bone knit together again under the skin. Two hours later the small fracture was repaired.

"Perhaps the pain is caused by the length of time it took to repair the bone," Arsenius postulated.

"But growing bone back is such a delicate process, I would hate to rush it and miss something vital," Severus mused. "After all, a broken bone with proper casting takes weeks to heal naturally. The process is quickened immensely, it seems to me, without sacrificing any necessary part. The only downside is the pain of such rapid re-growth. I don't think I could speed it up any further, not without dire consequences."

"Well said, my boy. Shall we check on the blood then?" Arsenius cast a diagnostic spell to allow them to see the blood flowing through the small body via a small holograph over the animal.

"It seems well enough," Severus said. "No blockages, or thinness of the blood. Is there any way that you could get closer to the bone we re-grew to see the marrow?"

"Consider it done. This is your project after all." The holograph's image grew larger, focusing on the head of the femur Severus had fractured and regrown.

"It seems normal enough, to my eyes, but I'll admit that I didn't really start learning about this kind of anatomy until I began studying under you, Arsenius."

"So I did teach you something after all. Hm. Well, let's compare what we see in this femur to the rat's other femur. That will give us a more realistic idea of what's going on." A second incantation and two images hovered side by side.

"The one on the left is the unbroken leg," Arsenius said. "It seems to be producing blood and fat in a healthy manner. Now look at the right image. Do you see how the blood seems to be flowing faster?"

"What is that?" Severus asked, genuinely curious.

"That bone is producing red marrow, and blood, more quickly than the unbroken femur. The potion needs more testing and some tweaking, but you could have an answer for trauma victims with broken limbs. Mix this with a blood replenishing potion, and you could save the mediwitches and healers a lot of time and effort. Well done, my boy. Well done indeed."

Severus smiled, a small tucking up of the corners of his mouth, barely noticeable to most. Arsenius caught it.

"I would be remiss in my duties as your master if I didn't remind you of all the testing that must be done to finish this project, or that you now have to figure out how to create a mold to make a skeleton to grow, or a name for this potion, or –"

"Skele-grow. It's a shortening of skeleton growth, something that will catch the eye of the discerning healer or mediwitch and admirably describes the potion's effects."

Arsenius smiled. "Don't be impertinent, Severus. You've done well, but there's still so much to do. What anatomical system will you concentrate on next?"

* * *

Thank you once again for your continued reading! I was so happy to hear from some readers after last chapter, and I can't wait to hear from more of you! Thank you as well to everyone who adds this story to their favorites or following lists.

On a different note, I cannot claim to have more than basic knowledge of the human body. All the information in this chapter I looked up on Wikipedia, WebMD, or had learned from my doctor to manage my anemia. I apologize if any of the information is incorrect. If you have any ideas on how I can improve the story, let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

Welcome back! This week's chapter awaits!

* * *

Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter Six

Severus billowed down the polished tile floor in the empty hallway. The eggshell colored walls were blank, but for the occasional portrait of a famous healer or a piece of artwork that only appeared to be a rune for healing if one took the time to look, almost with one's eyes crossed.

He was running late. Of course, he wouldn't be late if the hospital weren't so bloody huge. It shouldn't take a body more than half an hour to cross this pestilential institution.

"Young man!"

Severus stopped. Turning, he saw an open door. The woman in the bed looked small and frail, buried in the blankets as she was. Her cinnamon-sugar hair was thinning over her scalp – perhaps she had once had red or strawberry blond hair, but it was difficult to tell when looking through all the white. Her hazel eyes were sparkling with humor.

"Could you be a dear and signal for a mediwitch? I'm afraid my son just left with my wand…" Her melodic voice was muffled through the bubble-head charm that allowed her to breathe.

Severus flicked his wand at the metal panel on her gurney used for just such situations.

"Thank you, dearie. Now run along – not too fast, you wouldn't want to trip over such nice robes!"

Severus stormed off. Of course his robes were nice. Just because he was a student didn't mean he couldn't afford good quality. Besides, Tom had bought these…

And anyway, what did she need a mediwitch for? To bring her another magazine or otherwise keep her company? The staff here were busy people and had bigger concerns than ensuring one patient had enough entertainment for an afternoon.

Rounding a corner, Severus came to the office of Apprentice Healer Smethwyck. He knocked on the door and entered.

"Ah, Apprentice Snape, you've arrived!" The apprentice's voice was far too cheerful for Severus' liking.

"I was told we were meeting in an office, not a janitor's closet," Severus grumbled, looking about the small space. It might even be too small to make a decent ingredients closet. The oak furniture was good quality, though used well. The mint green walls showed no signs of personalization, but nail heads and wiring showed where portraits and other such artwork had hung.

"I think I said the same thing when I was assigned this office, though perhaps with less polite phrasing," Smethwyck returned. "Do you have more space then? I had thought all apprentices were given barely enough room to shite in, let alone actually work."

"In my line of work, they need to fit all the cauldrons and other apparatus."

"You have your own laboratory?" Smethwyck looked up at him for the first time. His sandy hair flopped everywhere, and his cornflower blue eyes were large in his face.

"Yes." It wasn't exactly a lie. Perhaps Master Jigger owned the space, but Severus was the one who organized, restocked and cleaned it. And used it. Arsenius was usually upstairs with the customers.

"We have to share space here, so nothing is ever clean enough to actually use. How about we go back to this lab of yours to discuss…whatever it was you wanted to discuss?"

"I'd be only too happy to do so, but I believe I will need your master's approval first. The potion I wanted to talk to you about today is only the first of many I'd be showing you."

"You already created the potion, and I'm assuming have already taken care of the copyright and other legal paperwork for it."

"This morning, in fact."

"So I wouldn't be getting any credit, even for suggestions I might make to improve it. What's in this for me?" Smethwyck's eyes narrowed. Apparently he wasn't as annoying Gryffindor or Hufflepuff as Severus had first thought.

"The chance to help in a great many more experiments than you seem to do here. Also, a portion of the lab to use for your own projects, as long as you keep it clean."

"What about ingredients and supplies?"

"Master Jigger is willing to share them with you."

"Are you willing to share them? I have a feeling you do all the preparation and storing of the ingredients."

"I do. As long as you don't make an absolute disaster of the supply closet, I suppose I can tolerate your presence," Severus replied, looking his nails, seemingly bored. He was actually watching Smethwyck from under his eyelids.

The look of lust at the mention of a laboratory, even a shared one, on the other apprentice's face was unmistakeable. He had also appeared interested in the vague mention of experiments.

"As far as the future experiments you mentioned go, what are you expecting of me?"

"My project for the Potions Guild is rather complex by nature and involves a great deal of the healing art. I should so hate to get anything wrong. You will be testing potions to the Ministry's satisfaction, and helping me analyse the results I get, starting today, if you agree."

"Will there be a master present, or will you be taking full responsibility for me?"

"I assume you can be responsible for yourself, as a fourth-year apprentice."

"Not what I meant, Snape."

"There will be a master present, yes. Does it matter if the master in question is from a field other than healing?"

"If you're meaning Master Jigger, he's well respected here, and his supervision will probably be an asset." He paused to chew on the skin just under his thumbnail as he thought quickly. Severus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. "I'll do it. We just need to talk to my master."

"Only if we are not walking back to the office I just left to find you." Severus glared at the other in irritation.

"You just left Master Derwent's office?"

"Yes. He already agreed, and asked me to give you this paperwork." Severus handed Smethwyck a piece of parchment.

Smethwyck seemed to possess any number of nervous ticks, not limited to chewing his nails, pacing, and murmuring "Good, good" as he read. It was going to be a long six months.

Finally after ten minutes of reading, Smethwyck picked up an old quill. The feather strands brushed every which way, and the end seemed gnawed on. Severus was unimpressed. This man may be brilliant, and the best of the current apprentices from what he had heard, but his work-space habits left something to be desired. Still, working with Smethwyck seemed like it would be mutually beneficial.

Severus waited, politely patient – or perhaps impatient was more precise – as Smethwyck folded the parchment into a plane, charmed it and sent it…somewhere.

"To my master," Smethwyck murmured. Severus looked at him curious. "No, I don't read minds, but people ask me about the paper planes all the time. I'm pushing for them to be used at the Ministry. Whenever I'm there, some owl or other takes offense to my existence. I think this could be quicker and cleaner."

Severus nodded in approval. "Then may we go?"

* * *

In the lab under Slug and Jigger's, Smethwyck had Severus run the entire experiment from the night before again.

"Just what was it you were expecting or hoping to see," the nervous blonde asked.

"Proper healthy growth of marrow and bone."

"Well, yes, that part's in your notes, but why? Not that healthily healed bones in a matter of minutes isn't a good goal, but what else? You mentioned a complex project with multiple new components for the healing industry."

Severus sighed. "I want to build a body from scratch, partly to see if it can be done, and partly because it would be a more humane way to test new potions before testing on humans for the final step. If this works, testing on humans would just be a confirmation, a formality. All the work and adjustments would be done judging by how the dummy reacted. In order for it to react correctly, it needs to be a functioning body."

"And just how are you going to give this body life?" A mildly polite question, but still irksome.

"I'm still working that out."

"I'll bet you are."

"Just tell me what you think of the potion."

"It heals bone and promotes healthy marrow and blood like you wanted it to. This might be the answer for the circulatory system, but you need something more for the skeletal system."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Smethwyck's voice was annoying patient, "this potion works by building on what's already present. The beef stock in the potion isn't going to be enough to build 206 new bones from nothing. Have you thought about crystal?"

"I believe I used powdered crystal and calcium in the bone stock, did I not?" Severus rounded the lab table to look at the notes Smethwyck studied so carefully.

"Not as a potion ingredient, twit. As a base to build bone on."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you never grew crystals as a boy."

"No."

"I'll bring some tomorrow to show you." Smethwyck sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Or you could show me now."

"I don't remember the recipe now."

"You insolent –"

"Though I'll remember much more quickly if we eat something and rest for the night."

"Fine."

"Good night then. Good first day's work. We'll try again tomorrow."

Smethwyck left, leaving Severus to clean and lock up. Severus would probably kill him in a month if the man kept stepping all over his work. He would just have to see what happened.

* * *

No additional sources used for this chapter.

Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, or added this story to their favorites/follow lists. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Happy Hallowe'en! Thank you for reading this week's chapter!

* * *

Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter Seven

The strong smells of alum, magnesium and sulfur hung heavily in the air of Smethwyck's apartment. One crystal, a deep amethyst purple (almost brown, really), stood from a glass petri dish on the small mahogany table, multiple branches reaching toward the cottage-cheese plaster ceiling of the kitchen. In some ways, the crystal looked like a petrified sea anemone, Severus thought.

"How did you come by this method of growing crystals?" he asked the young man sitting across from him.

"I'm a half-blood, but my mum was as interested in Muggle science and healing as she was in the magical methods we use. Dad was all too happy to fund a 'normal' science project, something he could share with Mum and me." Smethwyck smiled, clearly enjoying his moment of nostalgia.

Looking about the apartment, Severus could see some of the influences of Muggle and wizarding life blended harmoniously together. The fireplace in the living room was attached to the Floo Network, of course, but Severus was perplexed to see Muggle clocks hanging over the kitchen range (originally Muggle, but clearly charmed along with the refrigerator to work with magic) and in the hallway. He would have to ask Smethwyck how he'd managed to work Muggle appliances work in even a semi-magical environment. The walls were painted, the Muggle way – Severus could see minor scrapes in the plaster and patches from sanding before painting – with a random assortment of hung photos, some normal Wizarding moving photos, some Muggle still-shots, and some Wizarding still-shots designed to look like Muggle photography.

Coming back to the experiment at hand, Severus clarified, "This is a childhood experiment?"

"Er, yes. I'm rather surprised you haven't heard of it before."

"My father had other concerns on his mind."

"And your mother?"

"Concerned with pleasing my father above all other things." Severus frowned. He had grown up straddling the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, like Smethwyck, and still never had this experience. Had his mother known of such experiments? He knew perfectly well his father wouldn't have cared about any extra-curricular learning for his son – Tobias Snape had cared only about staying sober enough to keep his job at the mill and being able to afford the next drink. "How do we apply this to the skeletal system?"

"We?" Smethwyck gaped at Severus, his blue eyes wide. "I wasn't aware there was a 'we' in this project, other than my testing your end results."

"The crystals were your idea. I had thought you might have some idea as to their application in relation to the skeletal system."

"I was just thinking it would be a quick way to grow bone, if you could apply the same principles of crystals to bone. After all, ossification isn't _that_ different from crystallization."

"I see."

Smethwyck grinned, wryly. "You've made it abundantly clear that this is your project. Therefore, I declare that figuring out how to use crystal to grow bone, if such a thing be possible, is _your_ job. As agreed upon in the contract I signed, I will be all too happy to test your results."

Severus glowered. "Then I shall see you in a week. I should have some ideas to test by then."

"Oh, no! You don't get away from me that easily, Snape! You and Master Jigger promised me space in the laboratory to work on my own projects. I hope you'll put in some minor suggestions to keep me from blowing myself to smithereens."

"We shall see." Tom's mark on his arm began to flare. "I must be going, but I will arrange a time for testing at the end of the week."

"If not sooner, if I guess rightly," Smethwyck smirked.

Severus nodded, then spun dramatically and deserted the apartment.

* * *

Severus swore as he Apparated the manor gate of Tom's residence. He was in too much pain, mostly from Tom's impatience, to Apparate directly into the drawing-room, as he had during the last meeting with Tom.

He rushed through the entrance hall, ignoring the fine Muggle art, blind to the elegant furnishings. He ignored the black streaks starting appear through his vision. They would stop, with the pain, as soon as he was in Tom's presence.

He knelt on the runner just inside the drawing-room door. He gripped his forearm, trying to stave off some of the pain (impossible without Tom ending it), his knuckles white. He bowed from his place on his knees. He was so disoriented that his forehead met the carpet in front of him.

"You've finally arrived, I see." Tom's voice was cold. "What is your progress on communicating with the vampires?"

All the color drained from Severus' face. He had been so focused on finishing his apprenticeship and his project that he had forgotten his assignment from Tom.

"Ah, I see. How is your mastery project coming?"

"Well enough, my lord. I have made a breakthrough and am currently puzzling out the next."

"_Crucio!"_

Severus' muscles locked, shifting his position from exhausted kowtow to fetal position. Severus gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he would dislocate his jaw. His left hand curled into a fist, his nails, short though they were, cutting into his palm. Hours seemed to pass before Tom released the curse. Severus gasped, refusing to allow any other sound out, especially the sob welling up from his soul.

"You would put your own status above your lord's?"

"No, my lord," Severus panted. "I live to serve."

"_Crucio!"_

A shorter blast of pain, but still enough to set Severus' nerves on fire.

"If you lived to serve, you would never put your own projects above the assignment given you." Tom's voice was supremely reasonable.

"Yes, my lord. I will not err again." Involuntary tears dripped down Severus' cheeks.

"See that you don't. And see that you have results with the vampires in two weeks' time. If you are successful this time around, you may update me on your _other_ project."

"Yes, my lord."

Tom sighed. "Considering this is your first offense, perhaps I have been too harsh with you. Rise and I will heal you."

Alarm bells went off in Severus' mind. Lucius had never mentioned being healed during his last mistake – something about playing with a Muggle girl without Tom's permission. He had never heard of _anyone_ being healed after displeasing Tom. But then perhaps Tom didn't use the Torture Curse on everyone.

This prospect of healing could be a trap. Tom did not appreciate weakness, Severus knew. This could be a test of strength…

"Thank you, my lord, but I will take my punishment as it was given."

Severus was certain he could hear Tom rolling his eyes at Severus' stupidity.

"Severus. Allow me to heal you."

"I'll be fine, my lord."

"You haven't even moved from a fetal crouch. Let me heal you."

Severus looked up, holding in a whimper. "Why punish me then erase the punishment?"

"For one thing, so you don't vomit all over my priceless rugs."

"I won't, I promise."

"Severus, I'm healing you. Get up off the floor, and come here."

Severus bowed his head again. He wasn't proud of it, but he gave in to the pain. "Yes, my lord."

His body shook from top to toe as he struggled to his feet. He was as weak as a newborn horse – one swipe at his legs, and he'd trip, break his leg, and die. Tom slipped an arm under his, helping Severus to cross the drawing-room to the plush, satin divan. The room was silent except for the crackle of the warm fire, the soft chinking of the vials of healing elixirs Tom summoned, and Severus' still-harsh breathing.

Several hours passed, as Severus tried desperately not to moan in pain, keeping his eyes closed to drift off to blessed unconsciousness more easily. Tom occasionally muttered a spell or charm, even a curse if something (apparently) happen as expected.

Finally, Tom spoke. "Severus, where did these small white scars on your shoulders come from?"

Severus grimaced, refusing to open his eyes.

"Severus."

"My father would burn me with cigarettes as a child."

"And your mother was where?"

"Cleaning or cooking his food."

"She didn't know he did this?"

"No. She knew. She would send me to my room after, without dinner. She assumed I deserved whatever punishment I received. She never even offered to clean them, let alone take me to a doctor or healer to have them healed."

"So all Muggles treat their children this way."

"I can't speak to all Muggles, sir, but my father certainly did."

"And your mother, though a witch, was tainted by his inhumanity."

"I suppose so, my lord."

"This then is the reason you should fight harder for our cause, Severus. Think of the Wizarding children you could save from the same abuse you suffered."

"You're right, my lord. I won't fail you again."

"Good." A cork squeaked, as it was stuffed back into a vial. "You're quite strong, you know. I'm not sure most of my followers could last so long under the Torture Curse as you did, even if they screamed. If they made it through without passing out, they certainly would never be able to stand, I believe."

"Then why punish us this way, my lord?" Severus opened his eyes. He wanted to see Tom's face as he answered.

"Even the best soldiers need discipline. It is the role of the commanding officer to provide the necessary level of correction." Tom didn't look at Severus. He stared into the fire, now doubt contemplating his own plans. His face was calm, smooth as still water or glass. His eyes, though, unnerved Severus. Tom's normal amber-colored eyes were lit with the fire of enthusiasm, as if the idea of soldiers to fight his battles, while he gave commands safely from the sidelines was exciting. Most alarmingly, just at the edge of his irises, were Tom's eyes… No, they couldn't be red. Tom's eyes were brown. Severus was surely hallucinating from the nerves still tingling in his body.

Anxious, Severus asked, "May I be excused, my lord? I have a lot of work to complete within the next two weeks."

Tom started, looking at Severus. His eyes, Severus was relieved to note, were completely brown. He had been seeing things.

"Of course, Severus. You've been healed as much as you can be tonight. I shall expect to see you within the next two weeks for an update. And of course for news of what the vampires feel about our cause."

Severus bowed, nearly falling and left the room. The walk back down to the gates would give him time to regain his self-control.

* * *

He staggered to his small, spartan bedroom. Not even bothering to undress, he pulled back the counterpane, and climbed in, stretching his aching limbs. Even resting comfortably in his own bed, wrapped in his own pleasantly threadbare cotton sheets and thick wool blanket, he couldn't stop thinking about Tom's answer to his question.

Did Tom really want soldiers to fight the battle of wizard versus Muggle? Wizard versus Muggle? Severus squirmed, uncomfortably. Did Tom want to take this battle to the Muggle world as a whole? Until now, Severus had assumed that Tom's battle against Muggles would be against Muggle-borns already in the Wizarding world. Tom had said he had a plan to evict the Muggle-borns that would keep within strict reading of the Statute of Secrecy. That would keep the Muggle-borns and their families from even becoming aware of the Wizarding world, and, so Tom said, finally fulfill the Slytherin House credo, that magic was something to be earned, not a gift bestowed upon random individuals.

But then again, what about Muggle-borns like _her_, like… He couldn't say her name, but what about Muggle-borns like _her_, the ones that seemed to understand magic, and perform it better, than most pure-bloods? And if Tom's plan to kick out the Muggle-borns was based upon blood purity, how many generations removed from Muggles would be considered "too close"? Would half-bloods, even if they only had _one_ Muggle parent be forced out as well? If that was the case, would Severus be ousted, even as a loyal follower of Tom's?

Severus scoffed. He didn't even know if Tom was thinking of "soldiers" in a militaristic sense. It could just be a metaphor. Surely Tom wasn't suggesting that he and his followers would rip the Wizarding world into civil war again, not even a generation after the defeat of Grindelwald? And Severus was a loyal follower, so of course he'd be safe with Tom. Tom wouldn't be such a tyrant.

The other voice in the back of his mind spoke up again. Tom had just tortured him for long minutes, more he said than any of his other followers could take, simply because Severus hadn't given him an update on the vampires as quickly as Tom liked. Surely that was proof that Tom was tyrannical.

It was tyrannical only if Severus had been perfectly right in his actions, which he hadn't. He _had_ forgotten – entirely, it seemed – about the project Tom had given him. Which raised a whole host of other questions in his mind.

Severus fell asleep slowly, his mind buzzing with questions about growing crystals and skeletons, and vampires. He drifted into exhausted dreams ruled by demonic red eyes.

* * *

Hello, everyone! Again, Happy Hallowe'en to those of you who celebrate! I'm excited about this chapter, and the discussions it'll spark with you via reviews! Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Hello, everyone! I'm sorry for the late posting - real life, also known as a cold, is kicking my butt quite soundly. This would have been posted on Thursday...if I hadn't slept for eighteen hours straight. I hope you will forgive me, and enjoy!

* * *

Potions Master Pygmalion

Chapter Eight

She laughed in his dreams, her gaiety bubbling up like a spring welling from the ground. Her golden, caramel eyes sparkled up at him, her chestnut ringlets bouncing on the wind.

The dream shifted, and she lay with him on a picnic blanket, tucked into the curve of his arm, her curls a soft pillow under his cheek. Her eyes were closed, the long sable lashes forming an elegant arc against the silken rose of her cheek. He reached a hand out to cup her cheek, still in disbelief after all these months that someone so beautiful would waste her time and affection on him.

Suddenly, she began to fall apart, disintegrating into sand wherever he touched her.

"She is not for you, my boy, not yet," crooned the overly kind, grandfatherly voice of Albus Dumbledore. "I had to put her away from you, safe."

"Why?!" Severus screamed. "Why let me fall in love with her then rip her away?"

"For the Greater Good, my boy."

Dumbledore faded into the mist once again. Demonic red eyes and high-pitched hissing that might be laughter in any other creature dominated his dream again. A tall, skeletal figure of waxy complexion stepped out of the haze, the eyes burning with the unnatural light of a thousand fires. Severus could almost believe those eyes were the source of any fire in Hell.

Sure this _thing_ barely passing for a human, rather than a lizard, couldn't be Tom.

The snake-man laughed again. "The old fool was right, Severus. That one was not good enough for you. She is far too weak-minded."

But that wasn't true. Severus didn't know how, but he knew she was feisty, with her own opinions and ideas. Hadn't she improved some of his? Severus wasn't sure…

"She is a Muggle, Severus."

No. That wasn't right. She was Muggle-raised, like him, but not a Muggle.

"The taint of her Muggle upbringing will damage your children. She cannot be a good mother raised as she was. Think of your father!"

Severus put his head in his hands. He was so confused. All the details were fuzzy. Tom couldn't be right about her. But Tom had seemed to know some other stories of Wizarding children abused by their Muggle parent or guardians during their discussion last night.

The thing that stood in Tom's place in his dream chortled, sending chills down Severus' spine.

"Don't you believe me, Severus? Have you asked your closest for his opinion of your young woman?"

Lucius Malfoy walked from the wet, clinging fog, dressed as impeccably as ever. Severus noted with disgust that the expensive hunter's green and black brocade of Lucius inner robes didn't even show any water spots from the raindrops falling from his long blonde locks; the outer robe of charcoal silk had not yet stained from the damp weather. Either this was a dream turned nightmare, or Lucius charmed his robes to protect the expensive fabric. Then again, Severus wouldn't put it past Lucius to manage both.

"Why do women of less than pure blood call to you so, Severus?"

"You know I'm of less than pure blood myself, Lucius. Why would part-Muggle blood or upbringing bother me?"

"If nothing else, friend, because Muggles and Muggle-raised are so uncivilized. It took even you, with all your brilliance, three years to fully assimilate to our culture."

Lucius sighed, the concern in his voice and on his face never wavering. "Now that you've pulled yourself out of the mire of Muggle society, why would you allow yourself to be dragged back in?"

Severus had no answer.

"Severus? Severus! Are you going to answer me?" Lucius began shaking Severus' shoulders – more roughly than necessary, in Severus' opinion.

"Severus, wake up already!"

Severus' eyes popped open. He was in bed, wearing the same clothes from his meeting with Tom. He turned his head, painfully, to see Lucius hovering over him, his grey eyes troubled, his sculpted features showing the same concern as in Severus' dream.

"Lucius, what are you doing here?" His voice was rough, like he had scraped his vocal chords over something sharp all night. Or had been screaming. Oh, all right, the screaming was more likely.

"I got an owl from Arsenius Jigger this morning saying you hadn't come in to the shop. He said he sent you _five_ Patronus messages but never got an answer. It's quite touching you have me listed as your emergency contact, by the by."

Severus tried to sit up, but collapsed against the worn out pillow, wheezing in pain. Damn. He probably still had some unhealed injuries from last night, likely including some cracked ribs.

"Ah, yes, Master Jigger also had me bring this vial. He seemed to think you might need it. I've never seen anything so disgusting looking. Is this one of your experimental brews? Is your hair grease an ingredient?"

Severus growled, reaching for the vial. He broke the seal and pulled out the cork stopper, letting the steam curl up from the glass cylinder, past his nose. Steam plus horrid stench of fermenting meat? Yes, this was the Skele-Grow he'd created. Thank God, if there was one, for Arsenius' quick thinking! Here went the first human trial of his potion…

He braced himself mentally, then tipped the flagon's contents down his throat. As the liquid reached the halfway point down his esophagus, Severus realized just how stupid it was to drink a potion as yet untested on humans _without_ a healer, or at least Smethwyck, present.

Smethwyck would be furious – rightly so. After all, this situation was exactly what Severus, through Master Jigger and Saint Mungo's, had hired Smethwyck to oversee.

Well, he'd have to take some extremely detailed notes, that was all there was to be done.

Despite the steam that curled up from the bottled potion, Severus felt like his insides were being freezer-burned by liquid nitrogen. Severus struggled to breathe as three ribs he had cracked – nope, completely broken – under last night's torture moved, resetting themselves. It felt similar to a splinter – or several hundred – growing and spreading from the absolute center of his body, but that didn't begin to describe the pain. Severus ranked today's healing just under last night's bouts under the Cruciatus Curse. Severus gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain. For some reason, his thoughts were full of new-found respect for the lab rat he and Arsenius had originally tested this potion upon. He would bet that if that rat had had a voice, the rat would have screamed until its heart burst from the pain.

Then, suddenly, the freezing fire vanished from Severus' veins, leaving his nerves shrieking all the louder for the lack of pain. A welcome wave of cool air passed over Severus' sweat-soaked body.

"Severus!"

Severus gasped raggedly, drawing in a full, though rattling, breath. So the potion worked. Now that the pain was gone, Severus mused that he would have gone through twice the pain the potion had induced in order to draw a full breath again.

"Severus, you miserable, pessimistic, snarky, myopic, half-blooded _bastard_, if you don't answer me _right now_ I'm going to cheerfully slit your throat and dissolve your remains in the worst of your concoctions, then gleefully explain to that poor sod who took you on as an apprentice what happened in _excruciating_ detail!"

Weak though he was, Severus began to chuckle, laughing until he couldn't breathe any better than he had under Tom's wand the night previous.

"Lucius, you bleeding ponce, did you even take a breath during all that rot you just spewed?"

And just like that, the two men returned to the simpler friendship of a third-year sponsored by Hogwarts' Head Boy, with no evidence of the distance that had crept up between them after Lucius' marriage.

"Well, if you're implying – erroneously, I might add – that I prefer men, you must be feeling better." Lucius sneered down at his fingernails, inspecting them for the slightest (nonexistent) flaw, his tone indicating a false sense of boredom with the conversation. "Go take a shower, and I'll have some food and tea ready for you by the time you come out."

"Truly, Lord Malfoy, you are going to _cook_ for such a lowly servant as myself?"

Lucius looked at Severus, perplexed. "Of course not. Despite my earlier ire with you, I have no desire to lose your modicum of pleasant company."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Just move so I can get clean."

* * *

There was a comfortable silence between the men. Severus sat in a half-broken wicker-and-straw chair, both hands wrapped around the warmth of his chipped ceramic mug (black, of course). Lucius, snob that he was, had conjured his own far more elegant and comfortable chair, claiming he didn't trust Severus' furniture. Now that Severus thought of it, that was probably wise.

"You frightened me, you know." Lucius soft voice broke the quietude. "When I first came in, I wasn't even sure you were alive – I couldn't tell if you were breathing or not. And then, when I reached out to touch you, to try to wake you…" Lucius voice broke.

Severus had never heard so much fright in his older friend's voice. He looked up, watching and listening.

"You started screaming when I tried to wake you," Lucius continued. "You screamed as if your soul was being ripped from your body. And, then, _genius_ that you are, you decide to take what I now realize was an _untested potion_ to cure yourself. Do you know just how unnerving it was to watch all your bones move of their own volition? And your nose fixed itself, by the way. I wasn't sure you noticed given the pain that seemed to be stemming from your ribs."

Severus looked back down into his tea. He didn't know how to handle an emotional Lucius Malfoy. He surreptitiously fingered his nose - no signs of the multiples breaks his father had given it. Huh, he'd have to figure how _that_ had happened later.

"What happened to you, Severus? You had some nasty cuts, some of which looked half-healed, some still bleeding."

"Tom happened."

"Really? You finally screwed it up? It's about time you joined the rest of us mere mortals."

"He blasted me with Cruciatus twice, but held it for – I don't know how long. I thought my bones were melting."

Lucius' brows furrowed. "He's never done that to any of the rest of us, not that I know of. What did you do?"

"I forgot about the assignment he gave me, to get in contact with the Vampires."

"He gave that assignment to both of us. If that was his reason for calling you, why wasn't I called too?"

"I don't know. I just know that he was upset that I was working more on my Masters project than on his assignment."

Lucius hummed in thought. "Well, it would be nice to know what you're working on, but I trust whatever it is, you'll pull it off magnificently."

"I don't know. I've hit a snag, almost a patch of writer's block – potions block? I had a breakthrough last week. That was the potion you gave me this morning. But it didn't go as far as I had expected it to, and now I'm trying to find a substitute for the rest."

"You're being very cryptic, Severus. You know Father and I will loan you any materials you need, right?"

"Thank you, but I'd rather not risk entering your library, only to see your naked arse with Narcissa's legs wrapped around you, if it's all the same to you."

"Ah, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Perhaps it's a little early for this conversation, but…"

"Well, spit it out."

"Narcissa's pregnant. About two months. We were wondering if you'd be the godfather. Please?"

"You and Narcissa were wondering, or just you? She's hated me since I turned down her invitation to be her showdog at the Christmas dance in '73, remember?"

"Well, she has always hated not getting what she wants. But I talked her around. We both want you to be the godfather. If she carries to term."

"Are there concerns she won't?"

"She's having allergic reactions to the prenatal potions. She's never been particularly strong either."

"And? There's something else bothering you, Lucius. I know that face."

"She screams like you did this morning every time I try to touch her, even if it's just to rub her back or her feet to help with the aching. It's like she's allergic to me all of a sudden."

Severus was silent, watching his friend.

"Anyway, as far as the vampires go, don't worry, I have three contacts now. The first is a rogue vampire who emigrated here from Florence. His name is Santini. He still has ties to his clan in Italy, and has turned at least two others in the three months he's been in Britain."

"That's good news. Tom gave me a two-week deadline."

"For what, to make contact with the vampires?"

"Yes."

"Something isn't adding up, Severus. I've never heard from anyone of Tom acting the way you described. According to Father, he didn't even act like that during his biggest magical outbursts during his first few years at Hogwarts. Are you sure you didn't dream it?"

"And broke my ribs while lying flat in my bed, Lucius? That doesn't make any sense either."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know. But I can't think of any other explanation."

Severus nodded. He wouldn't mention his conversation with Tom last night, or his doubts about Tom's future plans. Lucius had enough on his plate without questioning everything he'd been raised to believe.

"Well in that case, I will leave the vampires to you, and keep working on my project."

"I meant what I said about helping you. Any resource you need, whether it be a text from our library, ingredients, supplies, _whatever_, let me know."

"I'll keep it in mind. Now, if you don't mind, I had better call Master Jigger and let him know I'm alive."

* * *

A few more kernels arise for you all to chew upon, my dears! Let me know what you think, that all my work through the migraines of my cold was worth the pain, in order to bring you entertainment! But seriously, now, tell me your opinion.


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